Reality
by Arcynic
Summary: Of course, he says, for if it looks real and sounds real and feels real, then surely it is real. But how often had this so called reality deceived him...? How often had he found himself conversing with air, sometimes for hours? [Oneshot]


It had to have been 15 years... 15 years since he had walked out of these gates for what he presumed to be forever. But he was standing here now, wasn't he? Strange... why was he here again? He couldn't recall for the life of him. Funny... he used to have such a great memory.  
  
He walked along the cobblestone path that led to the heart of the town, stopping only at the sight of an old bridge. He stared for the longest time before deciding to make a detour there. And just where was he planning to go in the first place, his mind asked him, but once again, he had no answers... for if he had... they were surely long forgotten by now.  
  
He must be considered a missing nin by now, he mused, leaning against the railing of the old wooden bridge, but that was probably the lightest term that was used on him... Words like traitor and bastard floated through his head... but for some reason... he couldn't quite remember what they meant... though he knew they were certainly bad words.  
  
He stared at his reflection... surprised that he even had one. He was by no means a vampire, of course, though he might as well be. The living dead... that was what he was anyway, wasn't it? Only half a man... only a shell of what could have been.  
  
That's right. What could have been. That was why he was here, wasn't it? To find out what could have been? He smiled, the first time in... well... he had obviously forgotten when... but he knew it had been a very long time ago.  
  
Perhaps 15 years?  
  
He lightly pushed himself off of the railing and took one last glace at the old bridge. Memories... vivid memories suddenly sprang to life in his old tired mind. Of missions and comrades... no... not comrades... friends. Yes... they were friends if these sudden memories were correct. But he had no way in knowing if they were... so maybe they were not his friends? Maybe these were not his memories at all?  
  
Pain shot through his head as more and more memories swan through his brain... too many for him to handle... memories that transcended just this place and this town... memories of trees and water and mist and.  
  
What else he may have remembered, he would never know, for he bolted from his spot on the bridge as fast as he possibly could. Just a short distance away, he was tired beyond belief. He looked up wearily to spot another slightly familiar sight.  
  
A building. But not just any building. A school building. He turned away from it, fearing more memories would creep into his mind.  
  
Funny... he thought he wanted to remember things...  
  
Instead, he turned in the opposite direction of the school only to survey a mop of pink sitting on a solitary swing, sniffling slightly. He gasped, for he remembered that color... But alas... the figure was too small... could not be anyone but a child... So it was another memory after all.  
  
But it seemed so real... it sounded so real.  
  
He inched closer and slowly reached his fingers towards the pink.  
  
...It felt so real.  
  
He laughed... laughed for the first time in... well... he had obviously forgotten when... but he knew it had been a very long time ago.  
  
...Perhaps 15 years?  
  
...Strange... that had sounded so very familiar. He did not even notice that the sniffling had stopped, and the mop of pink had lifted to reveal a tiny face, of a boy no more than 5 years old.  
  
"Hey... mister?"  
  
Jolted out of his reverie, he turned towards the young child, startled. "So you are real." He whispered and the child gave him a funny look... a strangely familiar funny look... though he couldn't quite place it.  
  
"Well of course."  
  
Of course, he says, for if it looks real and sounds real and feels real, then surely it is real. But how often had this so called reality deceived him...? How often had he found himself conversing with air, sometimes for hours?  
  
But real or not, he decided to entertain himself with this child... for he had long since forgotten the reason he was here in the first place... barely remembered where he was at all.  
  
"Well then child, if you truly are real, then why are you out here in the middle of the night? Real children should be sleeping in their real homes."  
  
The child giggled impishly, "You talk strangely mister. But... I can't find my real (he emphasized) home." He found himself face to face with the pink mop again as the boy held his head down.  
  
"Do you need help then, child? In finding your real home?" He asked, quite surprised that he had offered to help this child whom he was still not sure was real or not. The child on the other hand, turned his small face back towards him, shining with an emotion that seemed so very real. ...But he had long since forgotten what that emotion might have been... he vaguely wondered how he had remembered that term at all, actually.  
  
The child laughed again, seemingly heartened, "Why do you talk like that, mister?"  
  
Oh dear... had he forgotten how to talk normally as well? But exactly what was normal anymore...? Just as exactly what was real anymore either?  
  
He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders to the child as he helped him off the swing. Perhaps he was just afraid to talk again, lest the child mock him again.  
  
He led the child through the various streets, occasionally asking if any of the surrounding homes was his real home... and quietly asking himself if they were real at all. Nevertheless, the child shook his head each and every time... and he was beginning to wonder if this child was not real after all... and that he was just leading air to more air... for air was not a real home... was it?  
  
Suddenly, he stopped, the child knocking into his back. He did not have time to waste on what was not real, he would end this charade right this very instant. He turned around to face the child, ready to make him disappear like everything else that was not real would eventually do. It was this sudden moment, when he saw anxiety creeping into the child's eyes, that he heard it. Faint... but clear... Was it real...? Was it not? He jerked his head to the side, eyes widening with each passing moment.  
  
...More pink...  
  
She looked so very real... sounded so very real... but could it be...?  
  
"-uke chan?! Sasuke chan!?" Emerald green eyes widened, green eyes that looked so very real.  
  
Sasuke, he mused, it seemed vaguely familiar... but he couldn't quite place it. And then she stopped right in front of him, lips parted slightly, cropped pink hair mussed, a look of fear in her very real looking green eyes. But all he did was remember how that pink used to be longer. Funny... that he seemed to remember such a miniscule detail.  
  
"You..." Her voice tightened as her eyes darted from his face to the child's and then back again. So she could see the child as well, he mused, so perhaps this child was real after all? But... what if she was not real... surely what was not real could see what was not real, just as what was real could see what was real as well. But... for some reason, he could not believe that she was not real... did not want to believe was more like it.  
  
He took a few steps toward her, fingers trembling as he touched her cheek slightly with his calloused hands.  
  
...She felt so real...  
  
"...Sakura...?" Strange... it was a word he had never forgotten...  
  
Her own hands clenched into fists, and suddenly she was angry, furious. Tears running down her face as she pounded on his chest. Pain... he felt pain for the first time in... well... he had obviously forgotten when... but he knew it had been a very long time ago.  
  
Perhaps... 15 years?  
  
Her poundings soon ceased, and she buried her face into his chest, still crying, tears feeling quite real against his chest. His arms hung limply, before something in his brain forced his arms around her... what this was... he had long since forgotten... but he knew it was what he was supposed to do. He stood there, with her crying on him, for several minutes, before he heard her muffled words.  
  
"You've been gone so long...It must have been..."  
  
15 years perhaps?  
  
"It must have been 20 years."  
  
...20 years...  
  
"We... we were all so worried... we..."  
  
It's been 20 years...  
  
"You're a missing nin..."  
  
So he was a missing nin...? ...For 20 years...  
  
"Why don't you turn me in then?"  
  
"..." She did not meet his gaze, and he wondered if this was not real after all... for surely she would have turned him in for being a missing nin... it didn't seem real that she wouldn't.  
  
"...Uhm...?" Ah... he had forgotten about the child... and so had she apparently as she sprung from his arms to look at the child.  
  
"Sasuke chan! Where were you? We were all so worried! Don't ever leave the house like that again!" She scolded him... as only a mother could... The child was her son.  
  
He stood silently, simply watching her interact with her son... until her eyes met with his once more... vivid green eyes.  
  
"...It's a shame he can't see you now... He's on a mission... But I bet that would make him happy." Him...? Ah yes... him... the father... But why would he be happy to see him...?  
  
To please her, he just nodded his head...  
  
"...I just wish that little Sasuke chan could have met his namesake under different circumstances..."  
  
Sasuke...  
  
"You're leaving now... aren't you?"  
  
Of course he must. After all... he had come back just to remember his name... hadn't he? He had gotten what he had wished for... what other purpose was there in staying?  
  
He took a step backwards, into the shadows, ready to leave, before she called out.  
  
"Sasuke!" He vaguely wondered what seemed to be missing from his name... but stopped from leaving nonetheless.  
  
"...Before you go... could I... Could I see your real eyes... just one last time...?"  
  
...Real eyes...? Oh...yes... his real eyes... And red was replaced with onyx... for the first time in... well... he had obviously forgotten when... but he knew it had been a very long time ago.  
  
...15 years...? ...Yes...that seemed about right...  
  
Seeing her slight nod, he locked eyes with the bright blue eyes of the child once before he left in a whirl of leaves, never to step foot into the village of Konoha ever again.  
  
_______________________  
  
Bunni: Wow... that was a drastic change from what I'm used to writing... but it was a very challenging and interesting experience and I'm very happy with how it turned out. I think it's partly due to The Catcher in the Rye, if I hadn't read that book... I don't think this would have turned out half as good, so thank you Mr. Salinger. Lol. But is there any way to use italics in .doc? I think it might've added more to the story...  
  
Any who... reviews are greatly appreciated! Who did I fool into thinking 'he' was Naruto? Come on don't be shy, tell me! It was my intention after all... Oh... and if (when) you review, try not to spoil it... that wouldn't be fun. 


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